


Your Heart on the Line

by koganewest



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Unrequited Love, but shhh they dont know it, hanahaki, keith has hanahaki, oh my god they were roommates ((in love)), sorta - Freeform, with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koganewest/pseuds/koganewest
Summary: The blue petal in his palm glares back up at him. And, fuck, he should’ve known. He should’ve known a million times over. He should've known the second he met Lance that he wouldn't come out of their friendship unscathed. In a sick sort of way, it all made sense. Hanahaki. Unrequited love. A disease of the heart and of the body. A death sentence, unless he was willing to get a surgery, unless he was willing to risk losing his memories of who he loved. Lance.Or, Keith just can't let himself forget.





	1. not your fault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a direct result of me and [bella](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com/) rambling about pining keith and extreme angst  
> SEE THE BEAUTIFUL ART [HERE](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com/post/178164949530/ahhhh-im-so-excited-to-finally-post-this-towards)

“That’s it, Keith. I can’t study any longer. This class is the reason I’m ready to drop out of college,” Lance whines, dropping his forehead to rest on his Theoretical Physics textbook and huffing out a breath of exasperation. Dramatic as always, he then sits up, groaning, and stretches out his arms over his head. “I can’t believe this is a requirement. I need to take a break.”

“Okay,” Keith laughs softly, still watching Lance from where he’s sat on the bed. It creaks as Keith mimics his stretch, yawning in both exhaustion and boredom. His back pops with the movement, and Lance cringes at the sound. Yet he ends up laughing when Keith sticks his tongue out playfully. 

“Movie night?” Lance proposes, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ll even watch that awful Mothman thing you were talking about yesterday with Pidge.”

“Really? You don’t wanna study that badly?” Keith laughs loudly, running a hand through his bangs out of habit. When he opens his eyes, Lance is dejectedly approaching his bed, then flops onto the mattress, bouncing Keith to the side. 

“Really,” Lance affirms with a sigh, theatrically placing his hand over his forehead, “I don’t understand why I need that class. There’s nothing theoretical about aerospace engineering.” And this complaint is one Keith is familiar with, along with millions like it. He’s used to Lance’s whining, since they’d been placed together as roommates freshman year. Sometimes he isn’t sure why he and Lance decided to room together in a full suite this year as well, even after the rough start they’d gotten off to back then. Now, though, Lance is his best friend. 

“Tell me about it. It doesn’t help that the professor is an asshole,” Keith replies, catering to him. It’s the easiest way to make him feel better about the situation, since Lance often needs justification for his emotions. “I’m struggling a lot with the exams,” he tells Lance, even though he really doesn’t. Keith has always understood physics, which is a lot of why he’s majoring in mechanical engineering. 

Lance just groans again, before sitting up to grab his laptop for the movie. “What’s it called?” He asks while he pulls up Netflix on the dimly lit screen. Keith sits up, situating himself so that he’s leaning against the wall and there’s enough room for Lance next to him. 

“10 Things I Hate About You.”

“What? I said we could watch the Mothman thing,” Lance says, confusion apparent in his voice as he moves next to Keith and sets the laptop between them. When he looks at his best friend, Keith responds by just rolling his eyes with a grin. Lance is quick to reward him with a smile in return. “Oh thank god,” he laughs, “I really need some Heath Ledger for stress relief.”

“Figured,” Keith chuckles, settling into where he’s sat. His shoulder presses into Lance’s, as usual during their frequent movie nights, before he jokingly jabs his elbow into Lance’s side. “Probably because you’re just like him: absolutely relentless.”

“Yeah, and you’re just like Kat,” Lance counters. “Except bitchier.”

“Hey!” Keith protests, shoving him almost forcefully and pouting. His arms cross over his chest in mock anger, furrowing his eyebrows. “You dick!”

“It’s true,” Lance says, raising his hands defensively. Then, he seems to remember something, because his eyes light up and he jumps off the bed. “Wait, don’t play it yet! I gotta get something real quick.” 

He disappears out of the room, and Keith hears him hurrying around until he comes back to the door, hiding something behind his back with a grin. “Close your eyes!”

“Uh, should I be scared?” 

“What? Of course not!” Lance exclaims, sounding offended at his mistrust. So Keith just complies and waits until something lands in his lap. “Okay, open your eyes now.”

Keith almost doesn’t recognize them at first, since it’s been years since he’s seen something like it. But in his lap are crunchy rice bars. The exact kind that he and his father used to share, as he’d told Lance a few weeks prior. And honestly, he didn’t think they sold the brand anymore because it’d been so long. “How did you find these?”

“I did my research,” he shrugs, returning to where he’d been sitting. Honestly, Keith doesn’t know what to say. It’s such a kind gesture, but he shouldn’t expect anything less from Lance; he’s always been too kind for his own good. 

So Keith lays his head on Lance’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“No biggie,” Lance laughs it off, a typical response. He always makes it seem like it’s nothing, even though it’s so far from nothing. He tugs a loose piece of Keith’s hair playfully. “Hopefully this makes up for calling you a bitch.”  


* * *

They met on a rainy Saturday morning. 

It was move-in day on campus, and though Keith had initially been excited, his mood was dimmed considerably by the abundance of families around him. He truly thought he’d grown out of the unjustified hatred, but there he was, shooting dirty looks at every student who had someone by their side. It was childish. Keith knew that, but he couldn’t help it. 

Such hostility toward familial events had colored his younger life, but now that he was entering college, he’d assumed that he’d grown out of the feeling; he didn’t need anyone anyway. Honestly, he should’ve been accustomed to the self-sufficiency, because most days he was extremely proud of his independence. 

Days like these, though, it just made him feel like an outsider. 

After closing his car door – with admittedly more force than necessary – he began the trek toward his new dorm room for the third time. His arms burned from carrying so much each trip, but there was no other alternative. Luckily, he didn’t have as much stuff as the other students. He probably only had one more trip before the car was empty and his room was somewhat full. 

And he must not have been paying enough attention, because he didn’t notice the large group in front of him stop short to comment on the impending rain. He walked straight into who he assumes to be the new student. 

“Oh, sorry!” The boy exclaimed, turning to face Keith with a bashful smile. And for a second he examined Keith, who did the same in return. The boy was taller than he, with gorgeous tan skin and brown hair that curled with the moisture in the air. His eyes were a stormy blue, reflecting gray light from the cloudy sky. 

He was annoyingly gorgeous, and Keith decided that he hated him the most. 

“Whatever,” Keith grumbled, adjusting his box in time to push past the people who crowded him. He stomped away indignantly, as if he hadn’t been in the wrong. The idea of having a roommate anything like that boy was absolutely unbearable, Keith thought, deciding that he wouldn’t last a day. He still heard the family behind him, even as he turned into one of the many buildings. 

They were still behind him as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. They were still behind him as he turned to the north wing. They were still behind him as he stopped at his door. 

Oh, fuck no. 

He heard the boy stop in his tracks, before he spoke in a loud voice, with a tone still far from angry. “You’re my roommate?” He asks as Keith opens the door and set the box next to the others. When Keith finally turned to face him, the boy opened his arms wide and approached Keith for a hug, grinning with earnest. “Seems like we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Lance!” 

Keith visibly flinched away from the gesture, instead choosing to just grunt out his first name and force his way out of the small room. He doesn’t wait around to see the look of disappointment on Lance’s face, or the appalled expression of his relatives. 

He thought he’d just begun the worst year of his life. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Living with Lance was tough at first, since they had such obvious fundamental differences in personality. But eventually they came to understand each other, came to actually enjoy each other’s company. No one had expected when the unlikely pair became friends, after so long of Keith’s brooding and Lance’s self-proclaimed rivalry, but it’d happened. And they’d been inseparable since.

When Keith thinks about it, it’s almost funny. That day, he had cursed at the gray skies for playing such an awful joke on him. He prayed it was all a mistake, that he’d have a roommate that didn’t try to burrow his way into Keith’s life. But instead, he’d gotten Lance. 

The sky reminds Keith of that day. Now, he thanks it.

His walk is almost at an end as he approaches the art building, in time for the only class he and Lance don’t share – Keith’s studio art class. He’d chosen it at random to fulfill his Humanities requirement, but ended up liking it much more than he’d expected. But then his phone pings with an email, informing him that his professor cancelled class for the day. 

Slightly disappointed but looking forward to the extra leisure time, he turns around and heads back to his dorm room. On his way, he grabs Lance an iced coffee, knowing he has a paper due the next day that’ll keep him up all night. 

But instead of working on his paper, Keith sees Lance at the end of their hall with a girl he vaguely recognizes. 

Keith’s stomach drops to his feet for no reason at all as he struggles with the lock, trying to get into the room before they notice him standing there. His hands shake as he sticks the key in, frantic and unsteady, but the door eventually opens. 

And on his way in, he slams the door a bit too loudly. If they hadn’t noticed him before, they surely heard that. 

Breathing heavily, he rushes to the bathroom with the urge to puke. He locks the bathroom door in case, before slumping to the ground next to the toilet. He tries his best to calm his breathing, but he feels like he’s choking. 

Coughing into the toilet, Keith struggles with something in his throat. His hands brace himself on the bowl, but he trembles violently as he coughs. He isn’t sure if he’s throwing up or what, but it’s a miserable feeling. He hacks for a few more minutes, before the thing clogging his windpipe is dislodged, and he coughs it into the toilet. 

It’s single blue petal. 

And, fuck, he should’ve known. He should’ve known a million times over. He should’ve known when he and Lance first got close. He should’ve known when they spent extra time together. He should’ve known the other day when Lance brought him rice bars. He should’ve known the first time he’d so much as looked at Lance in a positive light. 

It all makes sense. Hanahaki. Unrequited love. A disease of the heart and of the body. A death sentence, unless he was willing to get a surgery, unless he was willing to risk losing his memories of who he loved. Lance. 

The only thing that doesn’t add up is the timing. How come he hadn’t gotten sick sooner? How come this mess hadn’t ended him earlier? Maybe seeing Lance with that girl in the hallway had triggered it, but it still barely made sense. Keith groaned, dropping his head in his hands in misery. Of course he loved Lance. Of course. 

Then, as if the universe was conspiring against him, he hears the door being unlocked. 

Quickly, he flushes the petal down the toilet, trying to piece himself back together for when Lance inevitably comes barging in, demanding to know what his issue is. But as he listens through the bathroom door, he hears a voice that isn’t Lance. 

“–I didn’t mean to invite myself in, but I think someone was watching us,” the girl says, though her words are muffled. He hears the sound of keys being dropped on the table, then the clumsy footsteps of Lance, ones he’d recognize anywhere. 

“Me, too. I think I heard a door slam,” Lance replies, and Keith gets sick all over at his tone, which drops from casual to deep. “At least now we have some privacy. C’mere, my room is this way.”

And despite the churning of his stomach, the pain in his throat, and the stinging of his eyes, Keith gets up and ready to leave. He doesn’t want Lance to know he was in there listening, frozen by the weight of realization, so he plans his escape. 

The second he hears the door to Lance’s room close, he tip-toes out of the bathroom and toward the door. He slips out silently, sure to disrupt nothing on his way out. 

That afternoon, he drives until he stops seeing Lance pressed against her each time he blinks.  


* * *

The sun beats on Keith’s neck, stifling and oppressive, as he parks his motorcycle outside the library. He’d been avoiding his dorm room the entire week, finding any place he possibly can to waste time away from Lance. The library has always been one of his favorite places regardless, due to the unassuming and solitary atmosphere. 

A bell rings somewhere above him when he enters, and he heads toward the back, where he knows the books about health and wellness are kept. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know a lot about his affliction, but now that he’s frequently coughing up blue petals, he figures he should read up. Maybe it was a little depressing, but there was no avoiding it now. He didn’t need a professional diagnosis to figure out that he was dying. And because of Lance. 

He finds a pamphlet appropriately titled “So You Have Hanahaki: What Now?” and settles in a beanbag. 

The reading doesn’t inform him much more than he already knew. That he’s in love with someone who doesn’t return his feelings. That he will die within a few weeks if he doesn’t get surgery. That if he gets surgery, he will lose all his feelings for Lance. That if he gets surgery, he might even lose his memories of Lance as well. 

The only thing that continues to puzzle him is the timing. He’s learned that the disease starts when he falls in love and the feelings are unrequited, and that the process is usually gradual, as is falling in love. 

But he’s loved Lance for months. He knew he had feelings, but assumed that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t love. 

Or that maybe, just maybe, Lance felt the same. 

His symptoms, though, had been triggered by seeing Lance with the girl in the hallway. Now, he recognizes her as Allura, one of Hunk’s friends, a fellow nursing major. He didn’t know her and Lance were a thing – Lance had never mentioned it. Why hadn’t he told Keith? And why had Keith’s symptoms started suddenly?

Angrily, he puts the pamphlet down to take home, then gets up to leave the library. He returns everything to where he found it, but not without huffing frustratedly the whole time. Taking a left turn, he heads for the door, pamphlet in hand. 

Just across the room, looking gorgeous as always, is Allura. 

They don’t know each other, so all Keith does is attempt an awkward wave, forgetting that he had the Hanahaki pamphlet in that hand. Immediately, he shoves it in his bag, face turning beet red. She looks back at him apprehensively, offering a confused wave. 

She definitely noticed. 

Cursing to himself, Keith hurries out of the library and takes off on his bike. He knows she saw, but maybe she just thinks he’s reading it for a friend or a family member. 

Though it’d been years since the discovery of the cause of Hanahaki, there was still a stigma surrounding it. Those afflicted were still looked down upon despite efforts to change the view. 

People seemed to think that the affected persons were horrible, too awful to love. 

Keith supposes maybe they’re right.  


* * *

Eventually, Lance catches onto Keith’s behavior and confronts him directly. Or, through text. 

from loverboy: Where ru???  
from loverboy: It’s about to start!!!  
from loverboy: Kieeeeeeeeth  
to loverboy: you spelled my name wrong  
from loverboy: Then come home!!!  
from loverboy: Whhere even ARE you??  
to loverboy: at the library  
from loverboy: You’ve been “at the library” all week  
from loverboy: I need to talk to u so like,,, come back  
to loverboy: five mins  
from loverboy: About Damn Time™  
from loverboy: You missed the intro tho

Keith was stupid to think he could miss Wednesday night, their usual Criminal Minds watch party. It’d been their thing for a while, and no matter what, they weren’t allowed to miss it. Regardless of workload, regardless of plans, regardless of petty arguments. It was their thing. Unconditionally. Except today he was late. 

Lance’s “need to talk to you” made him nervous. What if Allura had told him about the library? What if he found a petal? What if he knew Keith was in love with him? 

His hands are sweating beneath his gloves by the time he approaches their door. He knocks once, twice, until he’s face to face with Lance, who looks agitated at him. “That was longer than five minutes,” he grumbles, then steps aside to let Keith in. There’s silence between them until Lance speaks again. “No TV until you tell me what’s up.”

So, he doesn’t know. Thank god. 

“There’s nothing up,” he deflects, trying to avoid the conversation as much as possible. When he meets Lance’s eyes again, though, he gets a look that says he isn’t stupid. “Fine. I just haven’t been feeling great,” he lies nervously. “Didn’t want you to find out and start fussing over me.”

“Stubborn asshole,” Lance grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders and guiding them to the couch. The ease in which Keith is reconciled lets him know it’s a good lie. It’s totally something he would do. And it’s not even that much of a lie. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith sighs, letting Lance push him on the couch. He tries not to blush when he covers Keith with a blanket and tucks him into the seat. “You’re doing it. You’re fussing. This is what I was trying to avoid.”

But Lance doesn’t care, just shushes him and leans down. For a moment, Keith can’t breathe, until he realizes Lance is just checking his temperature. His hand runs through Keith’s wild hair, pushing his bangs out of his eyes so he can place a hand on his forehead. Lance then hums to himself before hurrying off to the kitchen.

A moment of silence passes until Lance calls out to him from the other room, most likely after digging through the medicine cabinet. “Stomach ache? Dizziness? Throat pain? Headache? Chills? Nausea? Congestion?”

“Yes to the first three, no to the rest,” he responds, rolling his eyes at Lance’s behavior. It’s typical of him to care for Keith while he’s sick, made a point to pamper him when he wasn’t feeling his best. Not that he was complaining. 

Lance returns with a few pills, a glass of water, and popcorn for them to share. At this point, the episode is nearly half over, but they watch it anyway, under the same blanket, untouching. It’s nice. Until Lance talks again. “I have to tell you something.”

The uncertainty is obvious in his voice, which Keith just can’t find any reason for. It doesn’t make sense why Lance is nervous talking to him. “Yeah?”

“I’m dating someone,” he blurts, pointedly not looking at Keith and picking at the seam of the blanket. “Well, sorta. She isn’t my girlfriend, but I’m going to ask her soon. I’m telling you now. Just thought you should know.”

“Okay,” is all Keith can manage before he curls up with a coughing fit. 

He’s sprinting away from the couch as quickly in possible, locking the door and keeping Lance out just in time for the first few petals to fall from his lips. He hears Lance knocking on the door, demanding to know if he’s okay, but he can’t answer. All he does is stare at the blue petals in his hands. 

Because they’re bloody. It’s a sure sign that he’ll be dead within two weeks. 

By time he gets over the shockwave and the coughing, Lance is hysterical on the other side. Keith consoles him through the door, assures him that he’s fine now, as he cleans off his face, his hands, and the blood from the floor. He only unlocks the door when he’s sure all of the evidence is cleaned and gone. 

“You dick,” Lance huffs before throwing his arms around Keith. “You can’t just do that and not answer me. Plus, I could’ve held your hair back or something.”

Keith just rolls his eyes, clutches onto Lance tighter, and savors the moment.  


* * *

The next day, Keith is better. Sometimes there are bloody petals, but sometimes there aren’t. He doesn’t let Lance know he’s still sick, doesn’t want him to worry. For a little while, it works. For a little while. 

“–I think, but I’m not sure. I just really like being around her. She keeps my mind off things, y’know? I’m always laughing with her and, not to mention, she’s absolutely gorgeous. She’s honestly perfect,” Lance gushes, eyes focused on the ceiling with a light blush on his cheeks. His smile is blinding. 

Keith hates every second of it. 

“That’s nice,” he says unconvincingly, keeping his gaze on the ground. He knows he’s practically cellophane, flimsy and see-through. His shoulders are slouched, his posture tensed, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips scowling. 

“I could even see myself spending my life with her,” he admits, to which Keith scoffs under his breath in annoyance. Lance hears it, unfortunately. “What? What is so wrong with her? What’s your problem?”

Truthfully, Keith’s a bit taken aback by the outburst, but he probably deserves it. Lance has been talking for a while, and Keith hasn’t even been responding to his rambling, hasn’t even offered his own input. He knows Lance hates feeling unimportant, brushed aside, so he should expect the way he snaps. Still, it triggers hostility in Keith. Whenever faced with conflict, he’s conditioned to close up. “Nothing is wrong.”

He didn’t intend to sound as adamant or angry as he did. 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” Lance counters, now staring daggers at Keith. It makes his stomach churn, not used to being on the receiving end of such malice from Lance. “What it sounds like is jealousy.”

Keith’s stomach drops. He knows. 

“You’re jealous that I’m with someone, and you aren’t. God forbid I find love, right? Here’s a tip, Keith. Stop isolating yourself!” He yells as he stands, slamming his textbook shut for emphasis. As he angrily packs away his books, he mumbles quietly, but not without resentment. “Who knows how different your life would’ve been if you just let someone in.”

And if Keith wasn’t fuming before, he is now. 

“Are you saying it was my fault?! I was just a kid, Lance!” He questions incredulously, standing face to face with Lance now. His chest heaves as he screams. “Are you saying it was my fault that no one wanted to adopt me?!”

“No, Keith,” he whispers, horrified at both his own words and Keith’s. His voice has softened considerably, and his shoulders slouch with regret and defeat. “That’s not– I didn’t–“ 

“Not what you meant? Didn’t mean it?” Keith demands, still shouting. “That makes it so much better, thanks,” he growls sarcastically, seizing his stuff and storming out. The door slams as if punctuating his words. 

When Keith was about 7 years old in an orphanage, he lost his trust in people as a whole. It was then that he made the vow not to let anyone in. Because no matter what, they always turned on you. 

Lance had been the exception. 

Now, Keith feels that same ugly betrayal in his chest, strangling his lungs with blue flowers. He guesses that this is what he gets for breaking his one rule, for loving Lance when he shouldn’t have. He’s just so angry and upset at himself that he forgets to feel hurt. 

Spending as much time as he possibly can, he races around the outskirts of the city on his bike. The sun has long set when he decides he needs to go back and sleep. Luckily Lance had left the door unlocked for him, since he’d left his key in there. It’s nearing one in the morning when he walks in as softly as possible, careful not to make the floor creak. He doesn’t want Lance to wake up and try to talk to him. 

Casting a glance toward their forgotten TV marathon, he finds Lance asleep on the couch, pillow clutched to his chest. 

Though Keith had been angry before, part of him softens at the sight, and another part of him stirs in guilt. The pillow is an indication that Lance had a panic attack. And Keith wasn’t here to help. Instead, he was the reason for it. Then, he feels the choking sensation and has to rush to the bathroom and cough up near a dozen bloody petals. 

When he returns from the bathroom, Lance is waking up, stretching with a yawn before blinking blearily up at him. “Keith?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he responds just as softly, only because it’s typical of Lance to be disoriented after a panic episode. “You should get to bed now.” He hates how gentle he sounds, especially when he should sound mad. But he’s a bigger person than that. He won’t show his anger until it’s appropriate. 

“M’kay,” Lance mumbles as he stands, still clutching the pillow in one hand. But then he starts walking toward Keith instead, whose eyes go wide with shock at Lance’s sudden coherency. But Lance ignores his expression. He throws his arms around Keith and pulls him into an embrace. 

Keith just stands there for a second, not reciprocating the hug. Until Lance whispers something into his hair. “I’m sorry.”

His voice is laden with sincerity, but Keith is still angry. Rightfully so. Forgiveness has never been an easy thing for him – maybe because he was stubborn, but maybe because he knew better. People never meant their apologies, so Keith never truly forgave them. He didn’t think they were deserving of it. He’d kept this mentality for a long time. He's by no means a weak person. 

Lance is still the exception. 

“It's okay.” And he hugs Lance back.  


* * *

The next day, Lance knows to give Keith a bit of space, especially because they have class together that afternoon. Even though Keith is mostly over it, he appreciates the breathing room, if only so he can cough up petals without worrying about Lance seeing. 

His symptoms have gotten worse since the onset. After that first night, he hadn’t felt anything other than the coughing, but now the other symptoms were back. He had a constant headache, along with dizziness and aching all over. It felt like his body was shutting down, and the blood loss wasn’t helping. 

He didn’t know why he bothered to go to class that day, but he wanted to spend as much time with Lance as possible. 

After grabbing two coffee drinks, he makes his way to their shared Applied Calc class, toward the math building. On the way, he had to stop to cough up petals in a garbage can, but luckily it didn’t seem like anyone noticed around him. But even if they did, it wouldn’t change anything. 

When he gets to the room, the seat beside Lance is occupied. By Allura. 

Then, everything goes dark, and suddenly he’s on the ground. 

The first face he sees when his eyes open again is Allura’s, but the first voice he hears is Lance’s. He’s herding people away, giving Keith space, while Allura checks him for a fever. He then hears her voice as well, asking him if he’s okay to stand. 

He doesn’t answer at first, just braces his hands and the floor under him and pushes to stand. He stumbles a bit, dazed by the pounding where he undoubtedly hit his head, until he feels his arm being lifted around someone’s shoulder and a hand clasping his waist. He doesn’t even have to look to know it’s Lance. He’s guiding him toward the exit, with Allura at Keith’s other side. “Let’s head to the medic.” 

“No!” Keith protests, as if suddenly the haze of confusion is gone, and he can understand completely. He tries to walk toward their building, but Lance and Allura continue guiding him to the doctor’s. He whines and tries to break free from Lance’s support. “I’m not going! It’s just the flu.”

The two exchange a wordless glance, until he sees Lance sigh and Allura visibly surrender. They turn back toward the dorms. 

Keith slumps into Lance the whole way, barely supporting himself, save for moving his feet. He knows he isn’t light, but his head is cloudy and aching. When they get into the building, Allura turns to Lance. “Keep an eye on his temperature and make sure he doesn’t get up without help. But he’s right, it’s probably just the flu. He’ll be fine in a few days.”

Keith almost giggles to himself. He’ll be dead in a few days. 

A sincere nod from Lance sends Allura off, and Keith is ridiculously grateful she didn’t stick around. Especially because she didn’t mention Hanahaki, so maybe she hadn’t noticed what he was reading in the library that day. 

Lance is patient as he walks them slowly to their room, but as soon as they get in, Keith hurries toward the bathroom, locking Lance out. 

He heaves into the toilet, watching bloody petals fall from his mouth. They’d be beautiful if it weren’t for his suffering, since blue flowers were quite uncommon. He thinks they symbolize Lance well, and if he weren’t dying, maybe he’d appreciate the beauty of it all. All he can do after he finishes coughing is slump against the wall and try to regain his strength. 

“Keith? You okay?” Lance calls from the other side of the door, knocking as well. The worry is obvious in his tone, and it makes guilt stir in Keith’s stomach. “Say something so I know you’re still conscious.” 

“M’fine,” he responds, opening his eyes slowly. It’s then he notices that his clothes are wet, clinging to him and going cold from being outside in the wind. Shivers run through him, shaking his weak frame. “I need help.”

“The door is locked. Is everything okay? Can you stand?”

Keith just groans in response, braces himself on the nearest wall and stands. Before he unlocks the door, he wipes the few droplets of blood off the floor and flushed the petals. Then he’s able to reach the door without much trouble. 

When it opens, Lance reaches out to support him, then walks him toward his own bed, which is closer than Keith’s. “Just lay here for a bit. I’m gonna get you a change of clothes.”

While Lance is gone, Keith just stares at the ceiling. He knew that Hanahaki had lots of side effects, that the disease affected everyone differently, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. Maybe it was because he’d repressed his feelings for so long. Maybe it was because he’d never loved like this before. 

Within minutes, Lance is back with pajamas and a warm washcloth in his hand. Neither of them speaks as Lance helps him stand and take his shirt off. He hands Keith the washcloth, who looks confused. “Don’t you remember? The coffee you were carrying spilled all over you when you fell.” 

Which explained why his clothes were wet in the first place. So he takes the washcloth and wipes his chest down, shivering though it’s warm. Lance then takes it back, handing Keith a sweatshirt in place. 

If Keith wasn’t delirious, he’d swear Lance was blushing. 

Though it was embarrassing to be seen so vulnerable, bare-chested and sick, Keith could barely find the energy to care. He then tried to take his skinny jeans off as well, but the way they fit was too tight to accomplish without effort. He just wasn’t strong enough, due to his shaking hands and tired limbs. 

Lance helps him take the jeans off, avoiding eye contact the whole time. Or maybe Keith is just delirious. It’s not like Lance hasn’t seen him in just boxer briefs before, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. It really isn’t a big deal. 

When he’s fully dressed, Lance seems to become himself again. He talks to Keith gently as he helps him into bed, tucks him under the covers, and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Rest up, okay?”

Keith barely remembers nodding before he falls asleep.  


* * *

He spends the next two days in bed with a ridiculously high fever. Lance urges him, repeatedly, to consider going to the doctor, to consider that this just doesn’t seem like the flu anymore, but Keith refuses. 

The doctor won’t do anything for him, except limit his remaining time with Lance. 

It’s much more difficult in these days to cough up flowers without Lance noticing. He begins keeping a garbage can by his bed, lined with a plastic bag, because getting out of bed and to the bathroom is a struggle. 

Lance worries and fusses over Keith, only leaving to attend class occasionally. Keith knows he’s becoming suspicious, but he doesn’t really have time to contemplate any of this, since he’s pretty much in and out of hallucinations all day. For all he knew, everything could be one awful fever dream. 

Still, he begs Lance not to worry, to continue his life normally, but Lance ignores him completely. And the selfish part of him is grateful that he can spend this time with the person he loves. This is a good way to spend his last days, in Keith’s opinion. There’s no place he’d rather be than next to Lance, watching stupid movies until he falls asleep on his shoulder. He doesn’t really know how much time he has left, but it’s still nice. It’s a good way to die. 

Things eventually start to get hazy, and he completely loses coherency for hours at a time. 

There are flashes of clarity every now and then, though. He can remember bits of alien documentary. He can remember falling asleep on the couch, Lance watching him with tired eyes. He can remember eating soup. He can remember glances of worry.

At one point, he can even hear a whole conversation. 

Lance and Allura are talking in another room, and he can vaguely hear what they’re saying if he pays enough attention. Her voice is plagued with exasperation, and his sounds nearly the same. She speaks for a long time before Keith can focus on something. Of course, it’s Lance’s voice that tethers him to reality. 

“I don’t know what to do, I can barely sleep now. I keep thinking I’m gonna wake up and he’ll be dead or something. And he refuses to go to the doctor.” Lance’s tone is desperate but exhausted, and Keith immediately winces with guilt. It’s his fault Lance is unhappy. His fault. He never intended to do that.

“I may not have a degree or anything, but I can easily see he needs to be medicated,” she replies. A pause goes by. “Does he have a history of any sickness? Do you have any idea what this could be?”

“I don’t know, Allura, I have no idea.” And his voice breaks, followed by a sniffle. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you, I just– I can’t leave him.” The sound of his voice makes Keith’s heart break. He hates himself for making Lance frustrated, for ruining his relationship, but mostly, for making him upset. 

“Look at me,” Allura says softly. Then, Keith hears the unmistakable sound of a kiss. “Let’s just take a break until this is sorted out, okay? Let me know if you need any help. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

A door closes, then Keith’s opens. He’s quick to close his eyes and pretend he’s sleeping as he hears Lance’s footsteps approach. He can feel Lance take the rag off his forehead, which has become warm from his fever. He then hears Lance walk out.

Something, presumably a textbook, slams in the other room. 

Keith does his best to get out of bed, stumbling a little as he approaches Lance. He’s faced the other way, oblivious of Keith behind him. His back is tensed, and his shoulders rise and fall with heavy breaths. Keith can’t tell if he’s angry, frustrated, hurt, or upset. Probably a combination of all four. He’s never been great at hiding his emotions. 

“Lance?” He questions as softly as possible, to which Lance whips around to stare at him, eyes wide and startled. Keith takes in his expression, the redness of his face, the depth to his eyes, the wrinkle of his brow. He’s still just as beautiful as the first day they met. 

“You’re up? Did I wake you?” He seems to snap out of whatever he was feeling and immediately returns to his usual worry. 

But Keith doesn’t answer, just doubles over with sudden nausea. 

Lance reacts as he usually does, just calmly leading Keith to the bathroom, then leaving him in there on his own. Lance gave up days ago trying to help Keith, just respects his privacy, which Keith is more than thankful for. It saves him the trouble of locking the door. 

“You’re going to the doctor. Right now. Whether you like it or not.”

After all he’d put Lance through, how could he refuse?  


* * *

Upon arrival, Lance has a brief argument with receptionist, who refuses to let him into the room with Keith. She insists, though, that only legal guardians or immediate family are allowed, even though Keith doesn’t have any of those. 

Thankfully, Lance relaxes when Allura shows up to escort Keith to the office. Then, a certified examiner took his vitals patiently as Allura skirted around them. She told Keith she was there for field hours, hoping to build a good resumé before she graduated. 

Then, the examiner hands Allura the stethoscope and instructs her to listen to Keith’s lungs. 

And if she hadn’t known before, she definitely knew now. 

Her expression went from a furrowed brow and a confused frown, to eyes wide with understanding. She looked up at Keith as she handed the stethoscope to the examiner, sealing his fate with a few words. “He has Hanahaki.”

“Don’t tell Lance,” is what he blurts immediately, desperation evident in his tone. Her eyes meet his, sad and concerned, as she silently questions his wishes. Keith ignores it. “Please, don’t tell Lance. He doesn’t know. I don’t want him to know.”

“Why?” She asks, but as soon as the words leave her mouth, it’s clear that she understands. Recognition passes through her features, before her mouth settles into a weighted frown. She sighs, as if steeling herself for the inevitable response. “You love him, don’t you?”

He drops his gaze to the floor, nodding slowly, though she already knew. There’s no other explanation. 

“We have no authorization to tell anyone your diagnosis,” the examiner speaks up formally, though she looks empathetic as well. “You can tell your friend you have a virus, and we will exonerate your story.” She sighs, too. “Are you sure you don’t want to consider surgery?” 

And, truly, it’s never even been a consideration for Keith. What he feels for Lance is an essential part of him. He’s grown tremendously since they met, since he fell in love, and it felt like if he were to remove those feelings, he would not be the same person. 

That, paired with the possibility of losing memories of Lance? It wasn’t even a question. If he lost Lance, he might as well be dead anyway. There was no one else for him. 

“I’m sure.”  


* * *

They’d taken Lance’s car, since the med building was at least a 20-minute walk. The entire drive, Lance seems ridiculously pleased with himself – and a million times more relieved. It almost makes Keith feel guilty about lying, but at least it will keep him blissfully ignorant until the time did come. 

But two minutes into the four minute drive, Keith breaks into a coughing fit, nearly choking on petals in his throat. 

Lance pulls over immediately and, of course, runs to the passenger side to help Keith out of the car as he stumbles toward the grass lining the road. He tries his best to push Lance away, to ensure he doesn’t see, but he just doesn’t have the strength. He coughs once, twice, three times, and then the bloodied blue petals fall to the floor. 

Lance’s breath hitches beside him. 

There’s only so much time Keith can waste trying to wipe the blood off his mouth before he has to turn to Lance. He expects Lance to be angry at him for a myriad of reasons: for hiding his health, for lying, for not trusting him.

Instead when he turns, he’s met with tearful eyes. 

“When were you going to tell me?” He questions, soft and quiet, as he reaches out for Keith, collecting him into a hug. “How long have you been sick? Why didn’t you just tell me, Keith? I could’ve helped.” The desperation is nearly nonexistent in his tone – all that’s left is raw pain. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers, letting himself fall into Lance’s arms. He just feels so weak, so sad, so guilty that he can barely support himself. The words tickle the hair on Lance’s neck, where goosebumps have now appeared. “Didn’t want you to worry in my last days.”

“Keith,” his voice breaks, “I can’t do this without you.” But to Keith, it’s just hyperbole, spoken by the emotions of the situation. Still, he relishes in the embrace, in his touch, in his smell. Lance pulls Keith away to look him in the eyes. “You aren’t getting the surgery?”

All he can do is shake his head, dropping his gaze to his feet. 

“There’s–” Lance starts, then breaks off to rub frantically at his teary eyes. “There’s no way to convince you otherwise, is there?” The words are almost deliriously amused, as Lance waits for the answer he knows will come. 

Again, Keith shakes his head. However, this time Lance composes himself enough to help Keith back into the car. When he starts driving again, though, the tears flow freely down his face. Keith is almost too numb to feel anything, even when Lance begins to laugh and cry simultaneously. “You’re really a stubborn piece of shit, Keith Kogane.” 

Keith huffs out an attempt of a laugh as they pull up. Before Lance opens the door, he pauses, still staring straight ahead. “Is he worth it?”

And the whole sick irony of the situation makes Keith’s head hurt. If only Lance knew. He was worth so much more than just this. So Keith nods. And watches Lance’s reaction.

He closes his eyes, as if waiting for comprehension to seep in, but it doesn’t. Instead, Lance just nods like he’s accepting fate. And in some way, he is. He knows he can’t change Keith’s mind – not on this and not on anything. It’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them. 

Lance will inevitably have to accept the loss of his best friend. 

He doesn’t speak until he gets back into the dorm, and then he begins to ramble nervously as he cleans Keith up and gets him back into pajamas. “So, who is this guy? I didn’t know you were dating. Or crushing? How come you didn’t tell me you had feelings for anyone? Do I know him?”

He talks and talks and talks. It’s a coping mechanism, Keith knows, but it still drives him a bit crazy each time Lance asks a new question.

“Is it James from psych last year? He was pretty hot, but I thought you two didn’t work out. Didn’t you hook up at his frat party? But I didn’t think– Oh, is it Ryan next door? He’s gorgeous, but like, in a mysterious way. Though I can’t see you two together. Neither of you would talk, since you’re both so painfully introverted. Oh! What about Hunk? He’s super lovable. I would totally understand that–”

Lance pauses to help Keith up from where he’s sat on the bathroom floor and carry him into his room. For a moment, Keith wonders why Lance wouldn’t just bring him to his own room, but he figures he shouldn’t complain. Lance’s bed smells like him. Why would he object? 

“I get that you don’t want to tell me,” Lance sighs, sitting on the floor next to the bed after tucking Keith under the covers. “But this guy has to be an absolute idiot. You may like him, but he’s gotta be so dumb.”

“He really isn’t though,” Keith responds for the first time, voice quiet even in the silence. 

“He’s gotta be. You’re a total catch,” Lance protests quickly, keeping his gaze far from Keith’s face, which the boy is thankful for, since he’s now blushing profusely. “Like, you’re such a strong person, Keith. But still you manage to be caring and smart. And you’re so easy to be around. Hanging with you has never been difficult, like, we don’t even have to talk. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t love you back. He’s just gotta be dumb.”

“He isn’t,” Keith insists, staring still at the back of Lance’s head. He almost laughs at the ridiculousness of it all– Lance insulting himself. But instead of laughing, his chest aches. “He isn’t dumb, he just doesn’t feel the same.”

He watches as Lance’s shoulders slump, then he turns to face Keith, finally making eye contact. His voice, though seemingly disappointed, stays even. “It’s Shiro, isn’t it?”

“Not Shiro,” he huffs, burying his face in Lance’s pillow to avoid his stare. “Can we stop talking about this? I’m really tired,” he whines and grabs at the covers to warm himself. His teeth are chattering now, and his hands shake. 

“No,” Lance refuses adamantly, eyes going wide. For a moment, they just watch each other’s movements – Lance watching his shaking hands, him watching Lance’s frantic expression. Then, Lance sighs with resignation, before Keith even asks what the issue is. “I don’t want you to go to sleep yet.”

The unspoken explanation is obvious. He’s afraid Keith will die in his sleep, like most people with Hanahaki do. 

Now, it’s Keith’s turn to get emotional. 

His eyes well up as he stares at Lance, whose irises are somehow grayer than usual, sadder. But Keith is so frustrated from being ill and from hiding, so upset from the doctors and from Lance finding out, until suddenly, it’s just too much. 

“I’m just so tired, Lance. And I’m tired of being tired,” he cries, wiping at his eyes to no avail. The tears fall fast, and he can’t breathe. “I’m tired of– of not being loved back,” he practically wails, voice breaking with the words. He’s far past a few tears now, ugly crying without restraint, while knowing that despite it all, Lance will understand what he’s feeling. 

Said boy blinks at him once, then gets up from where he’s sat. His movements are slow, almost calculated, as he climbs into the bed next to Keith. 

Keith weeps his name, voice thick with tears and raw agony. His chest aches but, for some reason, Lance’s presence next to him is soothing, though they aren’t touching. “I’m just so tired of feeling like this. It used to be fine, I was used to it, but now I just want it to stop. I don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

He hears Lance turn next to him, and Keith mimics the action so they’re face to face. “You aren’t alone, Keith.” 

“Feels like it,” he mumbles, but the tears are slowing, drying on his cheeks. “I’m in love with someone who doesn’t love me back. How much more alone could I get?” He questions and, to that, Lance doesn’t have any reply. Silence falls in the space between them, save for Keith’s occasional sniffle. 

Slowly, Lance closes the distance to hold him. 

It’s awkward – the way Lance scoots forward and wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, the way they move, the way Keith inches into his grasp to bury his face in the crook of Lance’s neck, the way they both settle into each other and sigh simultaneously. On any other day, Keith’s face would burn with timidity, or he’d shake with nervousness. 

Now, he knows this may be the last time he and Lance are together. 

And unfortunately for them both, he can feel that Lance understands the finality of it all, too, judging by the slight shaking of his shoulders and the grip he has on Keith. Keith had almost forgotten how much this would hurt him as well, since they’d been pretty much inseparable the past year. Hurting Lance was the very last thing he wanted to do but, as usual, things hadn’t gone Keith’s way. 

And despite Lance’s hope to prolong it, Keith can feel the end was nearing. 

It wasn’t a bad way to go. As he’d considered previously, dying with Lance next to him was all he wanted. No hospital bed, no nurses, no stench of sickness, just him and Lance. There was really no better way for Keith to die. And, still: “I’m scared.” 

“I’m here now,” Lance attempts to soothe, though he sounds just as heartbroken. His arms tighten around Keith, and he practically breathes in his hair. “You’re not alone, Keith. I’m gonna be here until–” he breaks off, then corrects himself quickly. “I’m gonna be here for as long as you want me here, okay? You aren’t alone.”

“Okay,” Keith acquiesces, finally untensing to just let himself be held. 

Then, he lets himself sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE THE BEAUTIFUL ART [HERE](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com/post/178164949530/ahhhh-im-so-excited-to-finally-post-this-towards)


	2. but mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE THE BEAUTIFUL ART [HERE](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com/post/178164949530/ahhhh-im-so-excited-to-finally-post-this-towards)

Lance wakes gradually, confused as to why there’s someone in his arms. He shifts slightly, keeping his eyes shut and basking in the warm comfort of his sheets. His brain is a little hazy, so he just assumes that Allura is in bed with him, curled up within his embrace. It’s a nice thought, but it doesn’t last long. The hair beneath his nose doesn’t smell like girly shampoo. Instead, it smells of something so familiar, so recognizable that he almost has a hard time placing it for a second. 

Then, the events of the previous night come back to him. Keith. His eyes snap open. 

His first instinct, though lacking gentle caution, is to shove Keith a bit so he’s facing Lance. He expects Keith to wake up, to blink blearily, to be annoyed at Lance for waking him up so inconsiderably. He expects Keith to open his eyes. 

He doesn’t.

“Keith? Keith!” Panic overtakes Lance ridiculously quick, tainting his voice as he practically screeches. “Wake up! Keith!” But the boy’s eyes remain closed lightly and his face peaceful. He’s completely limp. With frantic quickness, Lance bows his head to press an ear to Keith’s chest, checking for a heartbeat, for breathing, for any sign of life. 

Relief floods his system when he hears quiet beating, though it’s treacherously slow and feeble. 

Without another second of contemplation, he scoops Keith into his arms, horrified at how his whole body is limp and lifeless. He runs as fast as he can manage to his car, getting them both into the car and speeding off. It takes him about half the usual time to get to the infirmary.

He forgets to shut off his car as he rushes over to Keith’s side, picks him up, and sprints toward the emergency entrance. It’s strange to think about how he never could carry Keith before this happened. Two weeks of sickness had really taken their toll on Keith’s body. 

From then on, everything is a blur of panic.

When the chaos has died down, when Keith is hooked up to a ventilator, when Lance is sat in the chair next to him, when it’s almost certain that Keith won’t wake up, Lance lets himself think. 

To him, Keith had always been an enigma. His glaring looks and hard exterior had deterred Lance from ever wanting to become close to him. Quickly, though, he learned this was a defense mechanism, imprinted onto Keith’s behavior from a difficult childhood. With much persistence and unwavering optimism, Lance had come to know Keith inside and out. He came to know even the ugly parts of him. 

And despite his heavy baggage, Lance had fallen in love.

The foolish part of him thought that maybe, just maybe, Keith had felt the same way about him. Lance had never had any symptoms of Hanahaki, so the feelings had to be requited. But Keith never made a move. It just didn’t make any sense. 

Eventually, he got tired of waiting around for Keith, so he started keeping an open mind about other people. And that was when he met Allura. 

True to her name, she was alluring in all aspects: her beauty, her wit, her humor, her intellect, her depth. She was at first a distraction from what Lance felt for his roommate, but then he realized how great she was for him. Slowly, Lance started to feel less and less for Keith, while his feelings for Allura blossomed genuinely. 

And then, Keith got sick. 

Predictably, caring for Keith had brought some repressed emotions to the surface, and now Lance was just confused. He didn’t know what to think, who he had feelings for, or what he wanted. 

But above all else, he just needed Keith to live. 

The doctors had told Lance they didn’t know how he was still alive. Based off the exam, he should’ve been dead days ago, but he’d lived. Barely. Just barely, his best friend had hung on. 

Looking over at him, Lance sighs heavily. Grief floods his system as he takes in just how sick, how fragile, Keith looks. There’s a tube down his windpipe, an IV in his arm, and he barely looks alive. If it weren’t for the steady rhythm of the ventilator, Lance would assume him dead. 

As he leans forward in the chair, his eyes begin to sting and well up with tears. He doesn’t want to cry again, but he’s just so scared to lose Keith. 

Since they’d gotten close, Keith had been one of the most important people in Lance’s life, and Lance doesn’t think he’d be able to function without him. He loves Keith, loves him so deep that some days he can’t even understand what he feels. He’s never really had a best friend that he fell for, so all of his feelings for Keith are painfully new and raw. He doesn’t know how to handle it. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know how to control it. 

And apparently, the same goes for his display of emotions. Tears fall fast and unabated, and his sobs are loud in the near-silent hospital room. The monitor still beeps, unfazed and unwavering, as Lance cries out his name and begs, “Wake up! Please, c’mon, I need you.” His voice is high-pitched and breaking, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not even when nurses gather outside the door, probably whispering about how pathetic he is. 

A pause. Silence. Lance collects himself, heaving a sigh. 

“I don’t know who you’re in love with, or why you’re so willing to die, but it’s stupid, Keith, it’s so stupid. I thought the person who didn’t love you back was dumb, but you’re even more of an idiot. How could you do this to me?”

He sighs again. Expecting an answer was foolish. 

“I wasn’t enough for you. I get that. I may be selfish to want you here with me, but you can’t just die on me like this! No one is worth dying for – especially if they don’t love you back,” he pauses to wipe at his eyes. “I just don’t get it. Maybe I wasn’t enough for you, but at least I would’ve loved you back.” 

His words trail off, and his voice breaks once again. “I thought I could forget about what I felt, but now with you sick, all my feelings are back. It’s so painful, Keith, I hate it. God, you stubborn idiot, I still love you–”

And just like that, Lance’s world returns to normal as Keith surges forward in his bed, coughing and choking. 

Chaos ensues as nurses rush in, removing the breathing tube and forcing Lance out of the room. His heart hammers in his chest, terrified yet treacherously hopefully, as he peers into the room. Minutes pass as nurses assess his condition, checking his lungs with the stethoscope repeatedly. Lance watches them exchange glances of shock and happiness as they talk to Keith. 

It’s obvious what’s happened. Though rare for Hanahaki patients, sometimes they make a complete recovery. Only when the sufferer’s affections are returned will the disease disappear as if it was never there. Sometimes the process is gradual but sometimes, when the circumstances are dire, it is sudden. 

He’s going to be okay. 

When Lance is allowed back into the room, he notices that Keith looks a bit dazed, but it doesn’t stop him from tackling him into a hug. Lance presses whispers into the nape of his neck, adjacent to tears, as he repeats, “You’re okay, you’re okay.”

Keith apparently has other things on his mind. 

“You love me?” He questions, and it causes Lance’s heart to pang at all the unrestrained emotion in his eyes. He still looks sick, from the pallor on his skin and the bags under his eyes, but Lance can tell he feels fine. It’s a strange sight, especially after Keith had been practically dead a few hours prior. Lance 

“Uh, I–” Lance stammers, trying to hide his blush with a sheepish smile. He then pries himself from the hug to sit in an adjacent chair. “You heard all that?”

“Heard what?” The look of confusion on Keith’s face makes no sense. How else could he know that Lance loved him? There was no other explanation. 

Unless.

“You did– I was,” he stutters, avoiding Keith’s gaze at all costs. Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense. “You were in love with me? That’s why you were sick? Because of me?”

“But I’m not anymore…” Keith trails off, and that’s when Lance finally looks at him. He’s sat up in the cot now, looking back at Lance like he holds the future. His hair is sweaty and disheveled from the fever, but his gaze is as pristine as ever. Lance almost stops breathing from the depth of it, but he’s saved by Keith’s voice once again. “I’m not sick anymore.”

Then, for the second time that morning, Lance understands. Keith is waiting for him to admit what he feels. He knows he isn’t sick anymore because Lance reciprocates the feelings. 

“Because of me,” Lance affirms, standing pointedly from his chair to approach Keith’s bed, sitting on the edge. The other boy watches him with bated breath, as if Lance decides his fate. And given the past few days, that seems to prove true. “Can I tell you the full story?”

Keith nods. So Lance does. 

He talks of how he fell in love with Keith just a few months into their first year. Talks of how he got tired of waiting for Keith. Of how he met Allura as a distraction but eventually fell for her. How when he watched Keith on his deathbed, he realized that he never stopped having feelings. That he loved Keith but suppressed it for their own good. How guilty he felt now, knowing that he’d caused Keith to suffer like this. 

By the end of it, he can’t even look Keith in the eye, too scared of what he’ll see. He can feel himself shaking with nervousness as the silence continues. 

Then, the bed shifts. Lance still refuses to look. That is, until he feels a hand within his own. 

“I understand if you don’t want to be with me,” Keith starts shakily, and Lance can hear the pain in his voice. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that I never meant to make things hard for you.”

Lance turns to face him, met with wistful dark eyes and a trembling frown. “You idiot,” he laughs, and collects Keith in his arms, finally hugging him. The other boy lets out a gasp of surprise but is quick to reciprocate it. Lance laughs again. “Of course I want to be with you,” he assures. “I need to sort my feelings out first and have a long talk with Allura, but I want you, Keith.”  
___

Things aren’t easy at first. Though Allura was completely understanding, they have other issues to deal with. It takes a lot of communication and even more patience to get through the beginning. Keith is at first skeptical of Lance’s admittedly sudden feelings, while Lance feels guilty that Keith would’ve just died if things had gone differently. There are discrepancies on both ends for a while. 

They get through it, though. And finally, things start to go their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, id like to thank the lovely [@miyura_sarkana](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com) for everything!! look at her art [here](https://miyura-sarkana.tumblr.com/post/178164949530/ahhhh-im-so-excited-to-finally-post-this-towards)! she helped so much with the process of this fic!!
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://koganewest.tumblr.com)


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